


A New Hope

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends, Feels, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jonathan Reid is a man of many talents but recognizing when he needs help is not one of them. Thankfully a certain hunter has been watching and noticed when the good doctor gave a cry for help.-----Please be mindful of the tags.This deals with some really heavy topics as Geoffrey coaches Jonathan through his darkest moment.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired for this while listening to the song A New Hope by Broken Iris which is a really heartbreaking song that makes me think of Jonathan and Mary. 
> 
> Not Strong Enough by apocalyptica, Weight of the World by Citizen Soldier and Would Anyone Care? By Citizen Soldier were also a good amount of inspiration for a Jonathan that is facing the hardships of both his PTSD and his depression.

The night wind was a whisper in his ear as he walked the solitary streets, a shadow beneath flickering lights. Jonathan was a phantom of his own making, a ghost passing through homes and businesses, seeing to the masses, witnessing their hidden truths but painfully left on the fringes of the busy nightlife and their bustling existence. The warmth of a home was lost on him, the cheer of  _ family  _ was a fading dream from many Summers past. The wealth of a life was so far beyond his reach now, a squandered opportunity he had in his youth that he neglected for the sake of his studies. The days of social gatherings and friendly meetings were reduced to making business acquaintances and gossip circles cutting each other down for meager means.

Never once in those many years of long nights and longer days had he experienced this sense of total loss. This feeling of drifting without purpose. He achieved his dreams as a doctor, he has revolutionized a technique that saves hundreds of lives. Yet the satisfaction and contentment was lacking in the presence of that measly ounce of pride he only felt in the presence of his mentor. Standing on the hill of his achievements now, he was entirely alone.

In his desire for his dream, he unintentionally isolated himself from any true friendship or loved one. He turned a blind eye to his family and his colleagues were a superficial presence of polite smiles as they passed their time until their shifts ended. Even those he may call his closest confidants knew him only by his reputation and held him to that same status allowing no chance for him to peel away that professional facade and bare the raw truth of who he truly is. They lacked the care for such a reveal and he would find himself once again, standing in the cold looking into a world that did not want him nor care for him in the way he ached for.

He found himself wandering the streets at night, less out of duty and more out of yearning, passing the time as he drifted in and out of the lives of the living. It felt strange to him, as if he was unwelcome even in the safety of the four walls of his office in Pembroke. He wasn't certain whether that was due to his new condition in life or the presence of his own insecurities, a paranoid sense murmuring lies into the back of his mind that he was a monster among men. That he was a predator amidst the general flock. That the dogs of war that prowled the streets outside would soon find their way inside and find him. He felt trapped, panicked and uneasy, restlessly pacing the rooftops and walkways that were made of the only construction platforms like tiers to build the pyre to his death. He felt this unrelenting discomfort and it drove him out into the night, not to sate his hunger for blood but to fulfill some unnerving desire to seek out and find that which he was dearly missing.

Each morning he would return, empty handed, exhausted and numb. He wanted more than this endless cycle in life but lacked the ability to obtain it.

What few encounters he had with the leader of the Guard of Priwen gave him the first burst of life he had felt since he returned home from the war. There was this rejuvenation to his soul, as if something that once had died when he did had suddenly been revived and he chased that sensation. Each brief encounter, a passing flicker of shadows as he darted in to join the fray of a fight or skirted along the edges. The sound of McCullum calling his name or acknowledging his presence added to the quicker pace of his sluggish heart beat and had him practically bouncing on his toes through the rest of the evening. They danced a terrible macabre dance with every run in, occasionally clashing swords together as Jonathan turned his helpful hand to defending against McCullum's steel and bitter promises. There was a recognition in his voice, an acknowledgment that made Jonathan feel as if for once in these many cold lonely months, that he was one step closer to feeling alive once again.

Maybe that was what fueled him on his most recent exploits as he ventured out into the city each evening. Some small hope grew in his heart that tonight he will cross paths with his hunter and tonight they will dance to yet another dark song, with blades and claws bared. The victor was undecided as they parried and lunged, dodging and swooping until a tie was beckoned by the rising call of the sun urging Jonathan to retreat to the safety of his dwelling.

Many of those days had ended in a lighter heart for Jonathan, while others were made heavier as he parted from their battles with a sense of guilt and the paranoia gnawing at his thoughts that he was somehow mistaking these encounters for something more, that he misread the intention and in some odd way he hoped it would be true. Then maybe, in one of these dark evenings, the hunter will maintain his promise and the moment Jonathan let's his guard down, the blow will be struck and he will be grateful for such a mercy. Other days he fled those terrible thoughts with a desperate fear seizing his already sluggish heart as he lamented such a dark hope. He was ashamed of himself on these days and would keep himself locked away in one of the various safe houses he found solace in when the hospital was too much for him to handle.

Everything that once made him the man he was, was now tragically lost to him. His job as a doctor was a balancing act of fighting against his thirst and the beast that dwelled inside of him constantly clawing for some way out beyond the shackles that Jonathan had carefully bound it with. The pitiful morsels of rats blood were a scarce offering barely keeping it away from that precipice of ravenous desperation. With maddening hunger curling into the pit of his stomach, he was scarcely maintaining what little self control that remained as he clawed at the walls and bed, whimpering and pitiful. He did not ask for this life. He did not want this  _ curse  _ bestowed upon him as if it were some wondrous gift. He did not want to be hunted day in and day out, to see death in every corner more so than he was already experiencing, having walked away from a war that left scars deeper than any Sewer Beast's claws could.

Tonight felt like another one of those nights, too painful to ignore the ache in his chest with every breath that filled his lungs. With the pandemic taking a turn for the worst, Jonathan found himself busier than usual as he cut through the hordes of Skals that roamed the cemetery each night, preying on the recently buried with hopes of an easy meal. He kept his claws to himself as he wielded a hacksaw instead, slashing into the pungent soft tissue of the rotting creatures spilling their fetid blood across the earth until they collapsed in a gurgling husk. They fell still in his passing, quieted by his anger and anguish as he made progress through the winding walkways.

It would appear that the Guard of Priwen had been absent from the area given the recent increase in numbers. It made him question what had taken the devoted group's attention away from a crucial place. The thought faded as he realized not many people visited cemeteries at night. Such a thought would be preposterous. With a heavy sigh he resigned himself to the realization that he was entirely alone in this endeavor and continued clearing the unwelcome from this place.

He was not content until he found himself knelt before the soft soil of his sister's grave. Her now permanent resting place with the newly replaced and far sturdier gravemarker was wreathed in red roses carefully crowning the base of the marker.

"Mother has been here recently." Jonathan murmured to the night air. The cry of a distant Skal that found a meal away from him was the answering howl, deranged and manic in its frenzied feast like many of the poor creatures driven mad with the Blood of Hate. His fingers reached for the rose, hesitant at first as he plucked one between his fingers. There was an ache in his fingertips as it made contact with his skin, a rash like burning as he continued to hold the object that offended his presence so much. A pain he felt he deserved. Neglecting the sensation until it became a dull ache at the back of his mind, he clutched it tighter and drew it to his chest.

"I cannot express how truly sorry I am, Mary." Jonathan continued, the pause between was a heavy silence that fueled that tidal wave of loneliness as it steadily climbed higher and higher each passing minute. It threatened to sweep him away as he sat in the unnerving quiet. Even the distant skals ceased their screaming as he relented.

"I wish I could have helped you in some way but I don't even know how to help myself." He admitted pitifully. "Everything I try, every method fails to this madness. I am a scientist and I can't even explain what has happened to me. This is all a nightmare and I just want to wake up. I want to come home to you and Mother."

His voice cracked at the last part. His mother, his dear sweet adoring mother who believed he was a ghost in her home. That he had died along with everyone else in his family. That he may have fallen on that battlefield and failed to return. Maybe that would have been better. If a bullet had clawed it's way through his heart and he would be lying in this desolate place in his Mary's stead. She would be the one standing over his fresh grave, eyes rife with tears holding a rose in her hand that didn't burn the very flesh it touched.

"Strange finding you here, leech." The words were unnecessary. Jonathan felt the hunter's presence before he beckoned to him. He assumed it was a courtesy, informing Jonathan in his moment of vulnerability that he wasn't alone. McCullum missed a prime opportunity to strike him while his back was turned.

Jonathan didn't raise his gaze from where he stared at the roses. The one still clutched in his grasp left a large angry red rash across his palm, causing a painful itchy sensation that urged him to claw at the damaged skin so that it could swiftly heal. He denied it that reprieve and instead held it in his fingers to admire the soft petals.

"Is it truly so strange to find a dead man amidst a cemetery?" Jonathan returned quietly. McCullum was a few paces away, keeping a wary distance from the ekon as if he could lunge at him at a moment's notice. It wouldn't be the first time he has done so in fact but Jonathan lacked the energy for their normal dance. He was tired, down to his bones, exhausted beyond his physical and mental capacity.

"Aye, suppose it so." McCullum answered. "Got somethin on yer mind?"

Jonathan cocked a brow as he did finally meet McCullum's gaze as he stalked through the headstones, weaving around them but keeping them carefully between them like a shield. He walked with purpose, a man filled with confidence hard earned and a respect well deserved. It didn't matter that he wore tattered clothing, worn and faded with time and over wear. He looked every ounce a man in charge no matter where he was. To Jonathan, McCullum was a man to be admired and he did admire him, maybe even envy him for the love and loyalty he had fostered from his men. He felt this bitter jealousy, that this curse he was so painfully afflicted with exempt him from feeling that same way. Maybe in another life he could have stood beside McCullum in this battle, offering his expertise to the Guard as both a scientist and a doctor.

"You're a man of enginuity, yes?" Jonathan inquired thoughtfully. McCullum looked surprised by the question but nodded. He straightened up a bit more, his shoulders drawn and alert as he inspected the ekon with an ounce of suspicion.

"Aye." He confirmed.

"Hypothetically, if one was to replace a bed of nails with a bed of stakes and landed upon it from a great height, what would be the chances that one of the stakes would successfully make its mark?" Jonathan asked, the words as nonchalant as if he were inquiring about what makes the sky blue or why a duck floats on water. McCullum looked startled by the question and completely ceased his prowling altogether.

"Reid, you realize that ain't funny, right?" McCullum stated.

"It's a scientific question, McCullum. A hypothesis that has yet to be tested." Jonathan added tiredly as he placed the rose back where it belonged. "It is a fact of nature that the dead should remain dead."

"What is this about Reid?" McCullum approached slowly, his attention fixed on Jonathan as the doctor followed his steps. He made no move to rise from where he was, there was no defensive change in his posture or wariness as Geoffrey came towards him, unarmed and vulnerable.

"I already told you. It is a fact that I do not belong here. There is no place in this world for me, McCullum." Jonathan raised his voice slightly before he could catch it. "I am tired of fighting tooth and nail to exist in a place I am not wanted."

There were so many bitter feelings in those words, bitten off behind the growl as he willed away the burn of tears in his eyes. He tore his gaze away from McCullum's and stared pointedly at the gravemarker. Mary's name was etched coldly into the surface, a beloved sister lost too soon. A vile act by a traitorous brother, unspoken crimes swept out of view as he ignored the blood of two deaths on his hands. Neither were what he wanted and yet every chance he took to fight the hand dealt to him ended in pain and misery for the only people he loved. 

He had nothing more to offer a world that was beyond the need for him. His skills were lacking as he attempted and often failed to play the part in this Masquerade called life. He was never fond of such games while mingling amongst the West End social circles and he despised it in the close knit clubs of friends of his parents. He excluded himself from the social world in his own neighborhood and left England altogether in the vain hope of finding somewhere he felt he truly belonged. But even that was fleeting as he graduated past the need for his mentor's presence and the world he had fallen in love with was besieged by a bloody and violent war which haunted him day and night.

He was so very tired of trying and failing. There was no happy ending for this story of his. He didn't see anything more than a life of struggle as he battles the temptations of that beast day in and day out. How much longer will he be able to withstand it? How much longer will he be able to practice the one thing that gives him any purpose at all? How long until every last thing that makes him feel even an ounce of humanity is finally wrenched away from him and he falls harder than ever before? 

His soul is already damned. What more is there to fend against? What more does this wretched world want from him? He has nothing left to give. The good Dr. Jonathan Emmet Reid died on that cold quiet street on his way home from the front. He never saw his mother's pained smile or felt the despair in his sister's voice as she begged him to end her own cursed life. He never served in the hospital he had hoped for when he was an intern all those years ago or met the strong people that made this city and built it up from the foundations.

He died and the selfish husk that knelt before McCullum now was a fading memory of the life that was. It didn't deserve to further this charade any longer.

"Get up, Reid." McCullum spoke sternly.

Jonathan was startled by the near growl from the Irishman as he stood now directly in front of the ekon. Both McCullum and Mary's gravemarker staring him down as if in judgement.

"What?"

"Get up." McCullum urged firmly, not taking no for an answer. The doctor was perplexed but obeyed as directed. His limbs moved as if on autopilot as McCullum crossed the short space in swift strides until they were side by side. "We're going for a walk."

Jonathan was surprised by the strong hand that gripped his bicep and practically dragged him along towards the exit of the cemetery facing Whitechapel. Once they were beyond the gates, his grip eased up before releasing altogether. Jonathan followed as they walked in silence and Geoffrey reached into his coat pocket to fish for a cigarette. The hunter pawed for his lighter before Jonathan dug out his own to offer it to the hunter with a flick.

"Thank ya." McCullum murmured around his cigarette as he puffed a cloud of smoke out. "Only time I get a chance tae smoke anymore is when I'm out on my own like this."

"Why is that?" Jonathan was genuinely curious about it. Despite the fact smoking was bad for one's health, he'd assume Geoffrey was a man that didn't take much care of his own well being given his line of work.

"A few of the lads aren't fond of it. Nasty habit." He retorted. "Bishop and Bonner would chew my ear off fer smokin in house." He took the cigarette away from his mouth, held precariously between two fingers as he tapped the ash away and breathed a long stream of the grey cloud out with self satisfaction. "I don't smoke much but once in a while I itch fer one to take the edge off."

"I see." Jonathan was amused and impressed by the other man's considerate nature for his men. He didn't leverage his position against them or silence their voices. He had seen more than a few men during the war who wouldn't have thought twice about ignoring the voices or concerns of their comrades and it built an uncomfortable tension in the ranks when those in command turned a deaf ear to the collective.

They returned to a somewhat comfortable silence as McCullum indulged in his cigarette as they navigated the streets of Whitechapel. As they approached St. Mary's Cathedral, the Irishman urged them to stop and gestured at the idle people milling about the streets. 

"Take a look around, Reid."

Jonathan did as the hunter asked though he remained confused. He saw Mr. Darby and Ms. Popa at their usual debate on the corner and Whitaker still spewing atrocities and slander on the front steps. Camellia was placing flowers around the headstones of the cemetery behind the church while Mr. Nithercott attempted yet again to make some form of poetry that would be even mildly appealing to a songbird.

"I'm not entirely certain what you want me to notice, McCullum." He furrowed his brows, confusion rife in his voice alongside weariness. His head felt heavy like it was stuffed full of wool and he was struggling to ascertain what the Irishman was trying to get through to him. If this was an attempt at reminding him of his privilege as a West End  _ toff _ , it was going to do the exact opposite and he should have just left Jonathan alone in the cemetery to begin with. Maybe the sun would decide to take him and he could save himself the energy of having to carve all those wooden stakes later down the line.

Geoffrey sighed heavily and gave his head a small shake. "What d'ya see?" The question was firm yet urging him to think hard on it.

Jonathan ignored the impulse to massage at his temples because he wasn't in the mood for riddles today. "I see people, McCullum. People going through their everyday routine." He didn't mean to sound so short with the other man but he couldn't help the way his shoulders shuddered as his frustration was steadily growing at this game.

"Exactly." Geoffrey piped up, taking another long pull of his cigarette as he blew the smoke back out slowly. He finished it, dropping the bud to land at his boots where he crushed it under his toe against the cobblestones. "What yer seeing now Reid, is men and women who owe their lives to ya."

"What?" Jonathan blanched. He didn't think that way of any of these people. They were just the citizens he had treated or spoken to in kind.

"Take another hard look. Everyone in Whitechapel that ya see right now has been helped in some way or another by yer influence or intervention. Whether or not you yerself have interacted with them directly varies." McCullum gestured towards Mr. Nithercott. 

"Just last week you saved him from a Skal that was hunting him like easy prey." It was true but Jonathan was simply passing by. Mr. Nithercott wasn't aware of the danger that had come too close to the church grounds and dispatched the Skal in the alley behind. He didn't realize anyone had noticed his intervention.

"You've invested money into Nurse Crane's dispensary which allowed women like Ms. Popa to seek medicine and shelter when a former client got rough with her." Geoffrey gave a curt nod in the woman's direction. The healing bruise on her cheek was lightly covered in makeup to try and hide the damage done.

"Every single person you see has been better for having met or interacted with ya Reid." McCullum assured him. "You may not think yer worthwhile to stay in this world but the sheer fact that I've yet to stake ya myself is proof enough that yer actions have improved the lives of these people."

If he could blush, he certainly would right this moment as Jonathan gawked, mouth agape as he stumbled to try and find the right words to reciprocate what McCullum was saying. At the root of it, he was simply doing his job as a public servant. It's what he believed in.

"But I…" His voice trailed as McCullum gave him a knowing look. His words failed him as he turned away from the hunter. The Irishman trailed quietly behind him, his hands stuffed into his pockets as they made their way towards the front gates of the cemetery once more. There Jonathan found a set of benches for visitors to rest upon where he promptly took a seat and folded his hands in front of himself. He hung his head as he stared hard at the ground. 

Geoffrey took a seat by his side and relaxed back into the bench. His legs stretched out across the cobblestones as he laid an arm over the back of the bench and gave it a gentle tap with his fingertips as he patiently waited for Jonathan to work through his thoughts.

There was so much he wanted to say, so many things that needed to be said but the words felt like razor blades rising up in his throat. He swallowed it down and let out a shuddering breath to dissuade the overwhelming emotions. 

"Take yer time." Geoffrey spoke quietly, his words were tender and lacking any sense of judgement Jonathan may have expected from a man that was nearly a complete stranger. Their encounters were primarily in the form of clashing swords and bitten off words and yet, here he was sitting beside the man who was supposed to be a sworn enemy dedicated to hunting him but instead….he was offering a shoulder for Jonathan to lean on. Without question or care as to why he should.

"I don't know what to say." Jonathan eventually admitted. It wasn't necessarily true but he was struggling too much to find the right words without breaking down and losing what little composure he still managed. He wanted to maintain some manner of his dignity before the end of the night.

"That's alright." McCullum assured him with a long sigh. It was the sort of noise often heard at the end of a long night, not directed at Jonathan in any way. "You can listen then."

Jonathan tilted his head as he straightened up, giving the hunter his utmost attention now.

"Reid, yer not alone in experiencing these feelings." Geoffrey began. "A lot of men who served feel this exact same way. This inadequacy with life as if the whole world has moved on beyond them and they no longer have a place in it."

That actually made a lot of sense once the hunter put it like that. These feelings, he had seen similar symptoms and signs in some of his veteran patients and survivors of the horrors of what they experienced in the trenches. Men who stumbled about with no sense of purpose or drive in life. Their light snuffed out as they sank to the earth with tears in their eyes and nursed the pain with a bottle or hid it behind sharp loud words and violence. They were hurting in ways that many people didn't understand and he himself was no different. It felt strange that he had missed the signs that were so clearly written on every part of his behavior.

"I see." Jonathan murmured gently, thoughts racing now as he re-evaluated everything he had said or done these last few weeks. How he felt and how he dealt with it in response to it all.

McCullum watched him for a moment before adding. "If one of yer patients was showing signs of this, how would you treat them?"

"Medication isn't as effective at managing the symptoms." Jonathan started, falling into the role of physician as he started to explain to the Irishman as to how the drugs they were using today weren't exactly meant for these kinds of problems and their response from patients wasn't ideal. "The science in mental well being is extremely lacking but the positive effects of socialization and routines have shown signs of benefiting the overall health of the patient. To care for the mind, one must also care for the body. Proper diet is just as important as physical wellness and mental stimulation by exposure to new environments and social situations."

Jonathan may have gotten a little bit excited about being able to talk about these things with McCullum, falling into easy discussion as he lectured the hunter about how many doctors have neglected their patients during the war, and how rampant of a problem it was that soldiers were showing similar symptoms to each other but they were told to die on the front than live like a coward. He rambled, raved and growled his disgust and Geoffrey listened to it all until he finally caught himself with a sheepish smile. The embarrassment rose in his chest as he tore his gaze away with an apologetic shrug.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to get off track like that." Jonathan fidgeted in his seat, fretfully smoothing his palms over the fabric of his trousers as he waited for McCullum to excuse himself from the boring topic or get annoyed with him getting off track.

"S'alright." Geoffrey chuckled. "Well, I assume you can guess where I'm gonna go with this then."

"Oh?" Jonathan cocked a brow. 

"Ya know what ya need to do, Reid. You can't keep going as ya are. It's not good fer ya." McCullum explained, gesturing at the ekon in a vague motion. Jonathan gave a small nod at that. He understood what Geoffrey meant but he didn't have that support system he desperately needed to get him through the days.

"I know."

"Good. So, yer gonna need to clear yer Saturdays from now on." McCullum piped up, straightening himself up as he stood to face the ekon's puzzled expression. 

"Why?"

"Because yer gonna be meeting with Bishop and O'Connor from now on. And don't think you can wiggle outta this Reid. If ya don't show up in a timely manner, I'll send Babic and Bonner to retrieve yer arse and drag ya back to Priwen." McCullum held his hand out towards the ekon expectantly. "Come on, hand it over."

"Hand what over?" Jonathan gawked once more, confused eyes wide as Geoffrey beckoned his fingers at him.

"Yer wooden stake, Reid. I've seen ya fighting with it." Well that was news to him now. He was beginning to wonder how much about his life that McCullum has seen and how he's managed to go unnoticed for so long. The thought rose to his lips but he quieted it as he reached inside his coat to retrieve the blood stained weapon in question.

"During the week, you'll be patrolling with me." Geoffrey stated simply as he took the weapon and inspected it briefly before shoving it into his own coat beside another stake that the ekon got a glimpse of.

"What about my rounds?" Jonathan began to protest.

"You'll still be able to do your work. Consider it personal security. Can't have the esteemed doctor walkin around on his own in these parts, can we? Some blood sucking terror might nab ya." McCullum chuckled. The humor wasn't lost on Reid who shared a growing smile with the hunter. The strange sense of relief was a welcome feeling as he rose to his feet to stand beside McCullum now. The dawn was closing in and night was ending, signalling their meeting was coming to its own end.

"Thank you, McCullum." Jonathan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding until now.

"Geoffrey." The hunter corrected as they shared a firm handshake.

"Geoffrey." Jonathan repeated. "You may call me Jonathan as well."

"Alright." The hunter clicked his tongue. "Ya best get going. If I find out the sun got ya, I'll drag yer bones back to kick yer arse myself ya hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Geoffrey." Jonathan gave a breathy laugh of his own as he took a step back. 

"Good. Now get yer arse home, Jonathan." 

With Geoffrey's bidding, Jonathan was grateful for the hunter's timely intervention as he started back for the hospital. For a night that started so horribly, he was pleasantly surprised at the strange but fruitful turn of events offering a breath of fresh air to the doctor who had been plagued with so much hardship. He felt better being reminded that there was a brighter side to the bleak look at life in which he had been viewing it all. It wasn't as easy of a fix as that but it was certainly a step in the right direction for a very long process of combatting this problem head on. Jonathan was willing to try and put in the effort as long as Geoffrey was willing to put up with him for it.


End file.
